Coming from a family of reluctant drivers and money-saving enthusiasts, I’ve grown up a regular user of public transportation. The “T” scene is as familiar to me as any Bostonian: grungy, open platforms, that will assuredly be the death of me come some frosty winter; the loud screech when the train lurches in twenty agonizing minutes late; the grimy cars stained with spilled Dunkin Donuts coffee; the pushy commuters desperate to sit and the rowdy teenagers hanging off the hand-rails and blaring music from their Beats; the announcement system that muffles the conductor’s comically strong Boston accent to the point where I can’t figure out which language they’re speaking, much less what the next stop will be. 

So the first time I took the Japanese subway after I had moved to Tokyo, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming of what could only be described as “subway heaven.” Each car is spotless, because most Japanese people actually follow the rule that bans eating or drinking on the train. They also abstain from talking on their phones because, surprisingly, it may disturb those around them. If they miss their train, the next will come in five minutes, or even as little as two if they’re taking the downtown loop. Digital screens in each car report the next stop (sometimes in three languages) and the time it will take to reach the rest of the stops on the line, as well as any delays on other lines. And a real shock is, when the train pulls up, those waiting on the platform make two lines, one on each side of the door, wait patiently for those on the train to exit, and board calmly and swiftly, all while music playing over the loudspeaker lets them know how long they have until the doors close.  

Then what’s stopping the Boston subway from emulating that of Tokyo? Cultural differences are a likely start. Even in New York, where the trains run twice as fast as Boston’s, Americans’ lack of respect for the importance of sanitary public transportation is only more evident. We also feel our revered freedom of speech extends undeniably to our cell phone conversation, no matter the volume. And there’s the problem of funding. The Tokyo “metro” rests safely in the hands private companies, while Boston struggles with angry passengers over raising fares for renovations. While I would like nothing more, I’ve resigned myself to acknowledging the Tokyo subway in Boston is only a Eastern Asian train admirer’s dream.